Beyond A Shadow
by Mir Queen
Summary: Felicity falls into the trap of Count Vertigo and Oliver rushes to save her life. In the aftermath, Oliver comes to understand a helpless truth he cannot ignore.
1. Chapter 1: Rage

Disclaimer: _I do not own nor make any profit off of Arrow. It belongs to The CW, DC Comics, etc._

A/N: Based on 2x07 (State vs. Queen), where Felicity gets caught in the Count's trap & Oliver saves her. Written before the episode aired. Not so good with action scenes and realism therein, so please be lenient on that count (no pun intended). A few might recognize this story from my Arrow tumblr blog: _HoodSmoaked_.

**Chapter 1: Rage**

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Oliver could hardly breath as he clenched the phone in his hand. The phone that had connected him to an eager Felicity not ten minutes before, when she had excitedly told him of her successful lead on the Vertigo illness.

The lead Oliver had specifically instructed the brilliant blonde not to follow on her own.

With Diggle out of commission until the sickness passed, that meant waiting for Oliver to don the hood in the evening. Something Felicity had clearly been unable — or too stubborn — to do. She had known he would be upset by her actions and chose to tell him when he was already at the courthouse, waiting for his mother's trial to start in less than thirty minutes.

Oliver had been furious when Felicity told him what she was doing, infuriated by her stubborn need to prove herself in the field when she had already proven herself beyond a shadow of a doubt in every way. He was so angry he nearly shouted at her through the phone.

Until she screamed.

Until she dropped the phone in her hands and Oliver listened helplessly as she struggled with some unknown menace, screaming once more before all went quiet.

Then that voice. That terribly musical and self-assured voice he remembered from months and months ago as if it were yesterday, tied to the feeling of a needle roughly shoved deep into muscle and sinew and the overwhelming chaos of Vertigo overtaking his system.

"Better come and get your girl," the monster breathed into the phone with twisted, amused malice, "She's become a little frightened now that I've sprung my trap. Can't you hear it in her voice?"

And then Oliver _could_ hear her. Even muffled behind a hand or a gag, Felicity's whimpers struck his ears so loudly they seemed like a physical blow.

She wasn't a little frightened.

She was terrified.

"I know she'd love to see you," the beast continued, pleasant and sickening as Felicity's whimpering faded into the background. "It would be so reassuring if you came to check on her. Besides, I'd like to chat with you about our… cancelled transaction, Mr. Queen. You weren't very polite to bring the police down on my operation. It was quite rude and it even brought the man in green right to my doorstep. Ruined my business, you might say. And here you are trying to do it again. Perhaps Miss Smoak will be able to help me convince you of your error in judgment… Don't take too long. She's waiting, you know."

Oliver listened with dread and fear as the dial tone overtook that awful voice.

The Count had Felicity.

Her brilliant lead had been an elaborate trap set by the Count for anyone bold or reckless enough to tap the source.

As much as Oliver had hesitated to choose between his mother's trial and taking down the Count, he no longer had any reservations. Felicity needed him. No other purpose held more meaning than that now.

His mother exited the private meeting room in her court attire exactly as he turned to go. Oliver could see the sudden comprehension in her gaze.

"You can't stay," she stated simply, not a hint of accusation in her tone or her stare. Oliver felt lucky Thea had decided to talk with Jean about Roy's presence in the court, hanging back far enough not to overhear.

"A friend needs me," was all he could say, an apology of sorts in his raging eyes.

"Go," she told him firmly, and he knew she truly understood somehow.

Not waiting for anything more than that, Oliver rushed from the courthouse one step shy of a sprint. By the time he whipped out of the foundry under the hood, he was close to exploding with impatience and desperation. God only knew what the Count could do with the unfortunate amount of time Oliver had been forced to use up in talking with his mother, getting to the club, scoping the layout of the Count's location, and using some of Felicity's treasured technology to view what few camera feeds he could tap into. The very idea made him push the bike harder than he ever had before.

The recently abandoned hotel Felicity had found in connection with the Count was nothing to sneeze at. With twenty levels and awkwardly arranged hallways, and the Count having it staked with guard after guard to protect his thriving kingdom, it was a dangerous infiltration. Of course it had been a trap for Felicity to slip past that many guards unnoticed.

The route inside would be almost impossible to manage with stealth and speed simultaneously, both of which were exactly what Oliver needed. He couldn't just open fire on the men or create a ruckus. It could mean Felicity's life and he was unwilling to risk that. But he also needed her to be safe as quickly as possible.

Each corner provided another difficult struggle with silence and secrecy, as well as a new notch in Oliver's worry and impatience.

Finally he reached the ballroom where he would find his IT girl, his system filled with so much untapped energy and anger he nearly ripped the doors from their hinges to get inside.

No gunshots rang out as Oliver moved forward into the ballroom-turned-laboratory with an arrow already nocked, and he immediately saw why.

The Count stood no more than ten feet across from the doors with a familiar form slumped gracelessly onto his arm. Felicity moved in a sluggish, dreamy haze, a trail of crimson running freely from a wound on her thigh. The responsible weapon lay in the Count's hand, the needle of the green-tinted syringe still coated with scarlet where it hovered in front of Felicity's throat.

Oliver knew what that drug did, knew the fear of feeling mind-numbingly helpless and weak at its behest, and the sharp pain of having a needle forcefully thrust into his body. Felicity should never have had to feel any of that.

"Oh, this wasn't very nice of Miss Smoak's boss, now was it?" the Count spoke brightly, seeming absurdly gleeful he'd been cheated out of a meeting with his intended target.

"Let her go!" Oliver demanded, the voice modulator barely necessary when natural fury deepened and roughened his voice so heavily. He took one step forward in haste, and stopped instantly as his enemy pulled the syringe closer to Felicity's throat, leaving a trail of red behind on her pale skin.

"Now, why would I do that?" the Count scolded almost thoughtfully, tugging Felicity's body into a painfully tight hold and sending her head snapping to the side at an awkward angle, blond locks swiping the air. "She's such a comforting weight. And I wouldn't want Mr. Queen to think I'll let him off the hook so easily. This lovely young lady could be very useful… _If_ she survives a second dose."

Oliver's blood boiled with unadulterated rage as the Count dropped the bloodied syringe and swiftly took out a second one from his coat pocket, pulling up the sleeve of Felicity's blouse with his other hand.

"_Let. Her. Go._" Oliver seethed, unable to recognize his own voice as wrath became him.

The Count laughed outright, his hand drawn back to plunge the syringe into Felicity's exposed flesh. In the time it took to blink, Oliver saw his opening and let his arrow fly.

Glass shattered as arrowhead met syringe, and while the Count was forced to cover his face, Oliver dove forward to pull Felicity's unresistant body away from her tormentor and into his own arms.

As bullets flew, Oliver ran for the multitude of large metal canisters of Vertigo set up along the entirety of the nearest wall. Raining bullets, the guards commenced on his position, and Oliver felt the adrenaline pushing at him to move. With Felicity out of her senses, however, he couldn't risk the gunfire more than he already had. Laying her down in the most protected area behind containers of the filthy drug, Oliver checked her over for bullet wounds as quickly as possible, breathing a momentary sigh of relief when he found none.

Taking advantage of the sudden lull in gunfire as the guards moved to ascertain his life or death, Oliver pulled his bow into position and took advantage of the sudden silence to jump up and fire twice at the nearest targets. Two men went down, Oliver ducked again, and the rest of the guards backed up with caution before opening fire again.

"Stop shooting!" The Count cried out in a fury. "You're destroying the merchandise!"

Oliver heaved another sigh of relief for this small mercy. It didn't help him get out any quicker, but at least he didn't have to watch the protective barrier of canisters disintegrate.

"You can't stay there forever," the Count called out, all hint of humor now gone from his voice. "Even if you don't meet the wrong end of a bullet, Miss Smoak will likely die from that first dose. Didn't I mention it was a stronger formula?"

Cursing the monster with every fiber of his being, Oliver thought through any options he had. If he ran for it, the only way out he could see was the same way he came in. There were no windows in the room he could escape from, and nothing with any practical value in protecting Felicity from the onslaught of bullets anyway.

When help arrived mere moments later, it was not quite the way Oliver had been expecting.

All he heard was the thump of a body hitting the floor and the startled exclamations of the guards as they opened fire in the opposite direction. Daring to check above the canisters, Oliver watched in relief and gratitude as a familiar masked blonde skipped in and out of the tables and equipment to avoid gunfire and draw attention away from him.

The Count's focus lay with the black-clad vigilante across the way, whose skills he could not doubt as she dodged this way and that through the melee, coming closer and moving farther away as necessary to keep holding their attention. She had no one to protect, no one for whom she had to continually ensure safety. That seemed to make her twice as dangerous.

Nocking one more arrow, Oliver ruthlessly took advantage of the distraction, lifting the bow Felicity had made for him and aiming with the intent of proving just how dangerous a protective, disadvantaged man could be.

The bowstring twanged and an arrow flew through the air with inexorable accuracy, heading directly towards the one person responsible for Felicity's life hanging in the balance.

For the first time since returning to Starling City and taking up the bow once more, Oliver didn't care if his arrow brought death. He could find no suffering strong enough for what had been done to so kind and strong a person as Felicity Megan Smoak.

Not taking even a second to glance at the results of his aim, Oliver pulled Felicity into his arms and raced through the corridors which had since become littered with bodies. Oliver pushed himself harder than ever, making it to the bike and speeding away in record time. Somehow he made it to Verdant driving one-handed, Felicity wrapped tightly in his other arm in front of him.

After the time he had spent getting to her, saving her, and escaping with her, the most nerve-wracking moment for Oliver was carrying Felicity down the metal stairs and setting her small body on the steel table. She looked tiny on the gleaming surface, and the sight nearly crushed Oliver as he hooked up the heart monitor for his own sanity.

Mashing herbs and mixing them in water with single-minded focus helped to steady his trembling hands for a moment. He forced thoughts of her death away with all of his strength, making himself believe he could save her.

Because he _needed_ to save her. Nothing would work right without her by his side. Felicity had slowly and subtly become the glue holding his half-life together. He just _couldn't_ lose her now.

Oliver raced back to the table and quickly lifted Felicity into the circle of his arm, tipping her head just enough to slip the cup to her lips. Watching her blue eyes flutter with the effects of Vertigo hurt more than he could say. She was so… fragile.

She would kill him if she heard that out loud, but it was true. No matter how strong of a person Felicity was, her body was simply not as powerful as his or Diggle's were. It was only the truth, no matter how much it annoyed her.

When the drug-induced chattering started to take hold of Felicity, Oliver could have screamed with guilt. It was all his fault. _His_ fault that she had misunderstood his intentions when he forbade her to go in the field alone.

"Oliver… Oliv-ver… fai-failed the mis-ssion… No. Nooo… Shouldn' 'ave…"

By the end of it, Felicity was in tears and her head shook side to side over and over. Oliver could only hold her tightly in his arms as the drug made its mark, lips pressed to her hair as he vowed to himself he would never again let her think she had to prove herself worthy of their team — or of his trust.

An age seemed to have passed when Oliver finally felt Felicity's body relax into his grip. At some point he had resorted to rocking her back and forth like a small child, the only means of comfort he could offer that she would understand in her mindless haze.

Moving his hand to pull down her skirt which had ridden up, Oliver suddenly jerked his hand back in surprise. Something wet covered his fingers. Checking what it could be, Oliver blanched at the sight of blood.

_Felicity's_ blood.

Looking down at the source of the bleeding, Oliver saw and remembered the wound in Felicity's soft skin made by the syringe. Feeling utter rage boil up again, Oliver forced it back with the barest thread of control, cursing his own stupidity for forgetting to care for such a glaring wound. Scowling at his own ignorance, he carefully laid Felicity back down, taking a brief moment to remove his leather jacket and roll it up beneath his partner's head.

Something in the gentle set of her face and the slight turn of her head urged Oliver to run his fingers through those soft blond locks where they flowed onto the tabletop. With a vigorous shake, the billionaire moved to pull out first aid supplies instead.

As relatively small as the wound was on Felicity's thigh, Oliver made doubly sure it was stringently clean and well-bandaged before he put away his materials. Left with nothing else to occupy himself, Oliver stood hovering at Felicity's side with clenched fists, wishing he could do more to help her.

But there was nothing _to_ do, except wait. So that was exactly what he did, rolling her office chair over and settling into it; allowing the vast ocean of tension to hang over him until he could see her eyes open — lucid and pure blue.

* * *

A/N: To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2: Care

Disclaimer: _I do not own nor make any profit off of Arrow. It belongs to The CW, DC Comics, etc._

A/N: Based on 2x07 (State vs. Queen), where Felicity gets caught in the Count's trap & Oliver saves her. I even included some references in this part. Because last night was beautiful and needed some sort of continuation for the episode before Barry's arrival.

**Chapter 2: Care**

* * *

An hour after taking a seat beside Felicity's prone form, Oliver started violently at the beeping sound which overtook the basement, whipping from his seat to stand between Felicity and the stairs.

"Whoa, Ollie!"

Halfway down the steps, Sara Lance held up her hands peaceably, dipping her head in acknowledgement of Oliver's defensive posture. "It's me, Ollie. Just me."

A loud breath whooshed out of the billionaire's lungs and he let his body relax halfway. "Sara. Thank you."

"Not a problem," she smiled slightly, that tiny, wry upturn of her lips as she pulled off her wig and mask. "Sin saw Felicity poking around down in the Glades. I knew your mom's trial was happening, so it wasn't hard to guess Felicity started digging for clues without telling you. Brought these back, by the way."

She held out a bag with Felicity's cell phone and other little items the IT expert must have had on her when she was caught.

"Sin knows about Felicity?" Oliver asked uncomfortably as he took the bag, frowning slightly.

"Only that she helps the vigilante," Sara shrugged comfortably. "Sin wouldn't rat her out or track her for anything. She's in the same boat, after all."

"Sorry," Oliver sighed wearily. "I'm just… frustrated and worried."

"I know," the blonde nodded understandingly. "I felt the same when Sin got shot."

"But this is my fault," Oliver growled, ignoring the crack in his voice.

"How?" was Sara's simple question. No disbelief, no accusation. Just a question.

"I told her not to go out alone," he admitted quietly. "To wait for me, for tonight. That way I could protect her."

"That's pretty sensible," Sara offered blandly.

"Maybe, but…" Oliver tried to explain, but his mind was still too rattled to do it well. "I know she thought I didn't have faith in her as a part of the team. It's my fault for causing her to believe that, for making her think she had to prove herself like this."

"If you had explained it like that when you prohibited her from going… Would she have held back from this lead?"

Oliver stared at Sara blankly, reluctant to admit the truth he already knew. "…No."

"Then it's not your fault," Sara concluded simply.

Oliver just shook his head, tiredly rolling the chair he had thrown across the floor back into its place by the medical table.

"All right," Sara spoke into the silence, her tone of voice informing Oliver she planned to let the subject drop.

"Thank you," Oliver repeated quietly, eyes stuck on Felicity's ironically peaceful countenance as he debated sitting down or pacing around the table.

"You should change and get that paint off," Sara responded reasonably. "If something comes up in your mom's case, Thea is probably going to call you."

Nodding halfheartedly, Oliver rose with great reluctance, allowing Sara to push him gently towards the bathroom.

"Go," she commanded quietly. "I'll watch over her."

With his brain in overdrive about Felicity, Oliver washed his face and changed into his business suit faster than he ever remembered doing before. When he reentered the main area of the basement, Sara stood in front of the metal table, arms crossed thoughtfully as she took in his appearance. Taking a close look at his face for any more paint, Sara finally nodded in satisfaction.

"I just came to make sure you two were okay," she spoke into the silence. "I still have to check on Sin."

"Your dad would want to see you," Oliver found himself saying, incapable of comprehending why he could still think about things outside of his IT girl's well-being.

Sara didn't reply, but her closed expression told the billionaire that was one subject where she wouldn't budge. He nodded vaguely in her direction, leaving it be as she turned to go. Without Sara blocking the view of Felicity, Oliver's eyes were once again drawn to her still form.

Only beeping and a door clicking shut let him know Sara was gone.

Some two hours later, Oliver still waited in an agony of suspense for his friend to open her eyes and see the world again.

"Felicity, you have to wake up," he whispered. "You really have to… I can't—"

His voice cracked, and he stopped abruptly to gather himself, clamping blue eyes shut against the thoughts plaguing his mind. Felicity was going to be all right. He'd given her the herbs and taken care of her wound. She would be fine. It was just her body sleeping off the aftereffects of the drug. That was all.

Yet Oliver could hardly breathe for worrying. Three hours and still the brilliant woman hadn't woken. Perhaps there had been too much of the drug and not enough of the herbs… Maybe she had an adverse reaction to the herbs; it was the first time she'd ever required use of them, after all… What if she—?

An obvious inhale broke off Oliver's line of thought instantly, his eyes snapping open to see his IT girl slowly coming around.

Elated beyond all realistic proportion, the billionaire moved forward to grasp her smaller hand in his own. The intensity of his emotions might have scared him — if he paid them any mind.

"Ohhh," Felicity groaned quietly, head tipping side to side as she slowly blinked open her eyes to focus on him leaning over her. "Oliver? …Why did you bash my head with your bow?"

The sheer clarity in those blue orbs and that ridiculous comment put a smile on Oliver's face that nearly cracked it in half.

"And now you're smiling unnaturally wide," the blonde tacked on, brow scrunching in an adorably confused way.

A little snort escaped Oliver, followed quickly by an increasingly loud laughter born of joy, amusement, and utter relief. Tamping down the laugh once he saw her startled expression, Oliver leaned down without thought to kiss Felicity's forehead firmly, so excited to see her awake and lucid that he could not contain himself.

"Oliver, wha…?" the IT expert spluttered in astonishment, trying to sit up only to slip back down with a gasp and a groan, clutching at her leg and her head with each hand.

"Hey," Oliver gently caught her before her head slammed onto the metal surface, pulling her into his arms so she didn't have to lie down anymore. "That leg is pretty tender right now. And you're going to have the worst hangover symptoms you ever felt, for a while yet."

"Just what I need," was her sarcastic reply, mumbled against his shirt. "A new way to give me headaches. If it's not glasses or computer screens, it's psychotic drug lords."

A growing smile dropped from Oliver's face at the last comment and he buried his nose in her blond hair as he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"For my headaches?" Felicity mumbled confusedly from beneath his chin.

Oliver would have smiled any other time at the small hand that came up to softly pat his chest. Even after being captured, tormented, drugged, nearly dying, and then waking up with the devil's hangover, Felicity still ended up trying to comfort him somehow.

"For what you went through tonight," he said out loud, the guilt reclaiming him with wretched force. "And for not letting you know in strong enough words just how vital and wonderful you are on this team. I never doubted you or your skills, Felicity. I just wanted to be able to protect you if anything went wrong. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear this morning. If I had, you wouldn't have gotten hurt tonight."

"Oliver—" Felicity tried to argue, but he cut her off as kindly as possible.

"Later, okay? You need to rest still," he replied gently, reaching under her legs to lift her small body up into his arms with ease. "We're going to the mansion and you're going to just relax as best you can. After you've recovered, you can argue with me all you want. Deal?"

Frowning frustratedly up at him from where her head rested against his shoulder, Felicity eventually nodded. "Fine. Later we talk."

Oliver half-laughed at that, rather sadly, and turned to get their respective keys, the bag Sara had given him, and the purse Felicity had left in the lair earlier that day. Before he left, the billionaire recalled his IT girl's ruined clothes and awkwardly grabbed the blanket Felicity had stashed away in her storage cubby, wrapping it around her battered body.

The tiny, appreciative smile she offered him spoke to the discomfort she still felt and how brave she was.

"You'll be okay," Oliver murmured, kissing her forehead a second time, and walked out of Verdant with quiet, gentle steps.

The relaxed, comforting interaction they had with one another was a fond memory after Felicity woke up screaming in the guest room across from Oliver's bedroom.

"Felicity! It's me! It's Oliver!" he called to her, grasping her shoulders and shaking her awake as gently as possible. With a loud gasp, she sprung up into his chest and planted herself there with clutching fingers.

Oliver rocked her back and forth in a soft, swaying motion, running hands over her shivering back in comforting circles. "It's over," he murmured warmly in her ear. "You're going to be okay. It's over."

When he felt Felicity shaking, he drew back enough to look at her face, unsettled at the sight of tears making heavy tracks down her cheeks. With soft touches, Oliver wiped away some of her tears and pulled her back into his arms.

"I walked right into a trap," Felicity spoke up, voice thick, but clearer than the billionaire had expected. The disgust layered over top bothered him greatly.

"You couldn't have known," he soothed her quietly, although he knew it wouldn't be enough. Not yet.

"Yes, I could have!" Felicity snapped frustratedly, pulling away from him and swiping angrily at her face. "There were absolutely no guards anywhere while I thought I was 'sneaking' around. I should have known the Count would have protective measures. If I suspected a place to be his hideout, it would only make sense for him to have protection there! And I just waltzed in like a total idiot!"

Stifling a sob, she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing up and down as if cold. Oliver didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her again, hoping his body heat would somehow combat the sensation Felicity's fear and memories brought on.

"The Count set up a _trap_," he argued mildly against her ear. "He intended someone to get caught and he intended to hurt you. That was _his_ fault. No matter how much you rethink your own actions, they don't make his any more correct. He hurt you. _You_ didn't do that. _He did._ Are you listening to me, Felicity?"

"Yes," she whispered, the tears invading her voice all over again. "But I… I just…"

She stopped, closing her eyes against something painful until Oliver prompted her very gently, "What?"

"It was horrible," she cried, voice almost nonexistent. "I've never been so scared."

Something dark and primal rose up in Oliver at hearing her tiny, terrified admission. Felicity Smoak, the woman who got strapped with a bomb collar, faced the threat of a crossbow, invaded mob casinos, remained behind in crumbling basements to save others, jumped out of planes to deserted islands, and played bait for serial killers… That brave, strong, impossible woman had been more afraid that very day than in any of the other terrible experiences she had been through.

If Oliver had not already put two arrows into the Count, he would have found the beast in even the darkest, deepest sewers and brought him to the surface to destroy him bit by bit until he had suffered as much as Felicity. A dark part of Oliver — the part he had tried so hard to beat back after Tommy died — cried out for revenge, but he had already killed the man.

Yet… feeling the tremble in Felicity's body, the fear embedded so deeply into her mind and spirit that she could only find enough strength to cling a safe haven… Oliver realized he could never have left her. Even if the Count had gotten away, Oliver could never have allowed himself to leave Felicity alone; he cared too much about her to go off for vengeance while she suffered mentally and emotionally in the aftermath of her ordeal.

Ignoring the part of his mind that was still very awkward about human contact, Oliver went from a simple embrace to flat-out pulling his IT girl up onto his lap and tucking her into his chest like a fragile package.

"i didn't take you for the cuddling type," Felicity attempted a weak joke, not even bothering to be embarrassed at the insinuation of it.

"Only with people I really care about," Oliver told her with genuine warmth, and as the words rearranged themselves in his mind, he was hit all too abruptly with his own words of a few weeks prior.

_Because of the life that I lead, I just think that it's better to not… be with someone that I could really care about._

While Oliver had known on some level how much he meant those impossibly difficult words for Felicity, the ironic truth was hard to face.

Because no matter what he might have told himself, no matter how hard he worked to tuck away his heart (for _her_ sake), he had already come to care for Felicity. It was the kind of care that ran deeper than any of the other relationships he'd experienced. A kind of… _love_… that ran deeper than the others. Even without entering into a romance, Felicity had become such a rich part of his life. An _integral_ part of his life.

However long he lived, and however many days he spent denying his heart for the safety of someone far more important and worthy of love… Nothing and no one would ever be able to replace Felicity Smoak.

Not for Oliver Queen.

* * *

-The End-


End file.
